


How To Win The Bet

by wordyanansi



Series: How To Win [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate POV fic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordyanansi/pseuds/wordyanansi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke's not exactly clear on why Bellamy even needs to go to Lily's wedding. She's also pretty sure that getting a fake girlfriend for the occasion is going to go horribly. Which is why she's not going to do it. </p><p>Except then he bets her a hundred bucks that he won't fall in love with her and she just can't say no to a bet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Win The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate POV fic. [Original fic here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4013341)

It’s not like Clarke’s never thought about fucking Bellamy Blake. But she’s always ruled it out as a horrific idea, because he’s really not the kind of person she could just have casual platonic sex with, no matter how hard up she might be. He already looks at her like he’s seen her naked, so she figures that would only get worse if he’d actually seen her naked. Also, they work together and their friend groups are way too intertwined. She’s definitely never considered dating him - she’s pretty sure that’s a recipe for disaster. They’d kill each other inside of a week. So when he asks her to be his fake date to his ex’s wedding, she’s pretty sure he’s joking. Except that he’s not.

 

“Why are you even going to her wedding?” Clarke asks, because she could think of literally nothing worse than going to the wedding of any of her exes. Not that they’re terrible people, or that she’s bitter or anything. Just… it makes literally no sense to her. Bellamy sighs, longsuffering, and she knows that this isn’t the first time he’s had to explain his rationale for this, and that somehow makes it even funnier to her.

“Because I was a pathetic mess when she left me for the guy she’s marrying, and she pitied me and it was pathetic and I want to show I’m not pathetic,” Bellamy tells her, almost like he’s wincing. She sees his point, because if she’d been dumped hard by an ex, she’d definitely want to show them that they were a speed bump on her road to success and happiness. But it’s Bellamy, over confident, devil-may-care Bellamy, and she’s really struggling to picture him pathetic. She swallows hard, trying to maintain composure. ‘You’ve been trained for this,’ Clarke reminds herself, remembering years of awkward social events her mother had dragged her to.

“And bringing a fake girlfriend to the wedding isn’t pathetic?” she asks, trying to figure his logic out. Because, for all that he’s a pigheaded idiot, he’s actually one of the smarter people she knows. And she knows a lot of smart people. He sighs again, and she almost starts to feel sorry for him.

“Better than bringing no girlfriend, or worse, just dating some poor unsuspecting girl just because I need a girlfriend to bring to the wedding,” Bellamy offers. Clarke snorts. Of course he thought about trying to get a real girlfriend.

“You could just not go to the wedding, you know,” Clarke says, because really, it’s the option she’d go with in his situation.

“That’s what Raven said,” Bellamy said. She can’t stop the laugh this time, because of course he asked Raven and of course she turned him down.Besides, Raven would be a terrible fake girlfriend, she’s not even good at affection or intimacy when she wants to be.

“So I’m not the first girl you asked to be your fake girlfriend?” Clarke asks. Bellamy winces, and she thinks that this is the kind of story that she is going to be quietly laughing about for many years.

“You were third,” he admits. “Raven told me I was an idiot and I shouldn’t go. Harper said Lily knew she was gay because of Mel, and then Mel told her to tell me I should try and get a real girlfriend. But that seemed like a lot of hard work, and unethical for the girl.” Clarke covers her mouth with her hand, because she probably shouldn’t add salt on the wound of his rejection by potential fake girlfriends. She’s clearly not doing a very good job, because he sulks in his chair.

“Are you going to be my fake girlfriend or not?” he asks. She considers it for all of a second. There’s way too many ways this could go wrong, but, she has to admit, she is interested in the logic he used to pick her.

“Why me? Raven’s one of your best friends, and Harper has no chance of falling for you. So why me?” she asks.

“Harper was on the list because she hated Lily. And Miller said I should pick someone attractive. I haven’t slept with you, you’ve shown no signs of wanting to sleep with me, and you don’t have a boyfriend. You fit all the criteria,” Bellamy shrugged.

“Well that’s flattering, I suppose,” Clarke said dryly. Bellamy rolled his eyes.

“Will you just answer the question please?” Bellamy demanded. Clarke shook her head and let a small laugh escape.

“Not a chance,” she replied happily. Bellamy frowns at her tone. And probably her answer. She can not wait to tell Monty about this when she gets home.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because I’ve seen way too many rom coms to agree to this clearly stupid plan. These people pretend to be all in love, for whatever reasons, lines get blurred, and feelings become an issue, and everything gets weird,” Clarke explains. “It’s stupid and I’m not doing it.” Bellamy thinks about this for a moment. She knows he’s about to work an angle, she’s seen the look in many staff meetings. She steels herself.

“So you think you’ll develop feelings for me?” Bellamy asks. “I understand. I am incredibly attractive, smart, and great in bed.” Clarke snickers.

“I’m more worried about you, Bell. You just admitted you think I’m attractive, and a challenge.  We’re gonna slow dance, and probably kiss at least once, and then you’re going to be all ‘Clarke, I love you, I can’t stop thinking about you’, and it’s not gonna happen,” Clarke explains. It’s Bellamy’s turn to snicker.

“Clarke, there is no way I’m going to develop feelings for you,” Bellamy scoffs. Clarke smirks, and she knows that he’s probably wrong. She’s seen him look at her sometimes in the way that means she knows she could get him into bed. The morning bell sounds in the staffroom.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Blake. I’m still not fake dating you,” Clarke tells him, standing up. “See you at lunch,” she adds, with a sincere smile this time. Because whatever else he is, he’s still her favourite work friend. And sometimes he even brings her coffee during their Wednesday lunch duty shift change.

 

-

 

“Bellamy Blake is a manipulative asshole,” Clarke yells as she kicks off her shoes at the front door. Monty sticks his head out of the kitchen.

“I thought staff meetings were every second Thursday?” he asks. Clarke waved him away.

“They are. This is new asshole-ness,” Clarke explained. “I’ve accidentally ended up being his fake girlfriend for his ex’s wedding.” Monty’s entire face lights up with undisguised glee.

“This is amazing. It’s going to be great. Jasper is going to lose his shit. You’re going to go on a couple of fake dates to get your story straight, and then you’re going to go to the wedding and fall in love for real and live happily ever after,” Monty practically cackles. Clarke scowls.

“You need to spend less time with Jasper,” she tells him. “And I told him that would happen and he swore it wouldn’t and I swore I wasn’t going to do it. But here we are because he’s a manipulative asshole. And I’m not going to fall in love with him.” Monty frowns.

“So… why exactly is Bellamy a manipulative asshole?” he asks, for clarification. Clarke sighs heavily. She’s kind of embarrassed about that part.

“What are you making for dinner?” she asks. Monty raises his eyebrows.

“What has that got to do with anything?” Monty asks, trying not to grin.

“Because I’ll only tell you if it’s really good,” Clarke explains, and he does laugh at that.

“Beef bulgogi and tok bokki,” Monty tells her, smug. Clarke covers her eyes with her hands and screws up her face.

“He bet me a hundred bucks that he wouldn’t fall in love with me,” she admits.

“Oh Clarke,” Monty says, finally taking pity on her. “You’re such an idiot. And you have to give him a hundred bucks if you fall in love with him?” She nods miserably. Monty sighs, like he’s disappointed.

“You’re both idiots. But, you’re right, he’s definitely a manipulative asshole,” Monty tells her. Clarke nods sadly.

“Can I have tok bokki now?” Clarke asks. Monty rolls his eyes.

“Are you eating your feelings?” he asks her. She glares at him.

“Of course I’m eating my feelings! Blake won! And tomorrow we have our first fake date,” Clarke rants. Monty tries to stifle a laugh.

“I did not make enough tok bokki for this,” he tells her, and then goes back into the kitchen. Clarke follows a minute later. Because, let’s be real, she has a lot of feelings about this, and eating them is a very viable choice.

 

-

 

Clarke’s just getting in the door from dinner with Bellamy when Raven calls. She feels like she should have been expecting this.

“For the love of all the things holy and half the things not, please tell me you did not agree to be Bellamy’s fake date to this stupid fucking wedding,” Raven says, before Clarke can even manage to get out a ‘hello’.

“It’s not my fault,” Clarke replies, because, it really isn’t. And it really isn’t her fault they’re going on a date to the museum later because he’s a fucking romantic and she never knew and now she’s actually worried for her sanity.

“I would love you to explain how agreeing to this is not your fault,” Raven tells her, in a tone of voice that suggests that there is no acceptable answer.

“He bet me a hundred dollars that he wouldn’t fall in love with me,” Clarke replies, but she’s pretty sure it sounded like a question. Raven’s kind of intense. There is a pause long enough for Clarke to make it to the kitchen and crack a cider.

“This is actually the stupidest thing that boy has ever done. This might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. And you dated Finn,” Raven says, disgust evident in her tone. Clarke presses her lips together to prevent a laugh.

“It’s pretty stupid,” she agrees, because it is. “But I am considering ways to get revenge on him for being a manipulative prick.” Raven laughs.

“Yes, okay, good. That’s allowed. It’s also allowed for you to slap some sense in him, or attempt to, because lord knows he needs it. I mean, you’re the total package. He’s definitely going to fall in love with you,” Raven tells her, and Clarke laughs, because that’s the thing she loves about Raven, her over the top love mixed in with insults. “But then, I have slept with him, and he was amazing in bed. And he’s actually kind of sweet.” And Clarke loves Raven a little less.

“Are you in Monty’s betting pool?” Clarke asks suspiciously. “Apparently there are bets on who is going to fall first and when.”

“I’ll take the fifth. Wick wants to go on a proper date. He’s freaking me out,” Raven says, changing the subject. Clarke laughs.

“Yes, it’s terrible having a good looking, intelligent guy be completely in love with you and want to treat you right,” Clarke scolds her. Raven huffs.

“You are no use at all,” Raven informs her. “He’s weird. It’s weird. I’m not… it’s weird.” Clarke sighs.

“You’re almost as pathetic as Bellamy,” Clarke says. “Just go out to dinner with the dude. Free dinner and possibly an orgasm. Live the dream.”

“Huh. You’re right. Don’t fall in love with Blake,” Raven tells her. “Or do. I don’t know which is funnier.” Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Bye Rae,” Clarke tells her before disconnecting. Of course, Clarke’s not entirely unaware of the real problem here, which is that somehow she’s fake dating a guy who is more considerate and knows her better than any of her previous partners. She’s pretty sure this date to the museum is a really terrible idea. And she can’t help looking forward to it. She takes a long pull of her cider.

 

She can do this, she thinks. She’s going to keep it light and casual and talk about students a lot. It’ll be normal.

 

Probably.

 

-

 

Clarke was very, very wrong. She’s come up against a lot of different versions of Bellamy Blake over the past few years since she met him. Arrogant, sarcastic, lecherous, considerate (mainly of his sister), perpetual big brother, and way more loving generally than he’d like to admit. But this one, over excited nerd Bellamy, is new. And it’s the most fucking adorable thing she’s ever seen in her life.

 

The drive to the museum was fine. And then they’re wandering around, pointing out things that interest them… and then Bellamy grabs her hand and pulls her in against him. Somehow, she’s tucked almost under his chin, and he’s pointing at a sword, and talking about the shape of the spearhead and how it’s culturally and historically relevant, and she knows, suddenly, that she’s going to fall in, if not love, then definitely lust, with him. And she’s smiling. Because he’s a stupid, passionate nerd, and she loves it (him). And, worst of all, she’s actually interested in what he’s saying. She finds herself interjecting with comments about art from the time, and how it ties in with his cultural/historical knowledge, and he’s smiling at her like… ‘I will not fall in love with Bellamy Blake. This is a terrible idea. Think about the hundred dollars. Think about the shoes,’ Clarke reminds  herself. But it’s like watching her love life on repeat. Finn talking about his stupid environmental causes that he never did anything about. Lexa talking about the law. That moment of utter dork that they reveal because they’re passionate and she finds herself wanting. Not just more history, or more of him talking, but Bellamy. She thinks she saved when they round the corner into a room of oil paintings from the early 1600s.

“Baglione’s ‘Sacred and Profane Love’,” Clarke says, staring at the first painting. “It’s the most perfect example of chiaroscuro. Look at the way it not only gives it life, but, you can feel it. I just… it’s so intense and beautiful, don’t you think?” She turns to look at him and he’s smiling at her like… she wants to say like she’s Octavia, but it’s not. It’s something else, and she wonders if he feels it too, if he knows it like she does, that this was really stupid fucking idea. She’s not going to fall in love with him, she isn’t.

 

She tells herself just to go with it, it’s a day, a moment in time, and it will never feel like this again. She’s always been kind of shitty at lying to herself, but she thinks she could have this, just for this one stupid date. She’s allowed. She’s been alone for a stupid long time and she misses this bit most of all: the talking and hand holding and secret sharing. It’s a fake date. She should fake-enjoy it. It’s not like there’s anyone else lining up to take her to the museum. So she leans into it and pretends she’s not going the right way to get her heart broken.

 

When they reach the planetarium, she finds herself curling into his warmth, and leaning into his scent. She pretends it isn’t real. She can feel his breath on her hair, just for a moment, and she’d pretend that, if he did kiss her head, that he didn’t. Just for today. She knows that in about two minutes she’s going to do something really stupid and ruin everything, just because he’s a fucking nerd and she can’t help it, so she points at the projection above their heads and asks if the constellation is Andromeda. She’s pretty sure it isn’t, but it’s the first constellation that pops into her head. Bellamy shifts closer, lining his face up against hers to see what she’s pointing to. He hums thoughtfully, and it almost vibrates through her. She needs to take her own advice and get some dinner and an orgasm, because she’s clearly losing her tiny mind.

“No. That’s Ursa Major, the great she-bear,” Bellamy whispers. “According to Roman mythology, that bear is Callisto, one of the nymphs. Jupiter fell in love with her, and his wife Juno got pissed off so she turned her into a bear. Then Callisto’s son is out hunting and sees her, but she’s a bear, so he gets ready to shoot her. And then Jupiter decides the best solution is to turn them both into bear constellations. That’s Arco, her son, over there, Ursa Minor.” He points, indicating the spot, and she lines her arm up with his, following with her eyes.

“I see it,” she says softly, because she actually can. She tries not to think about the way it feels to be basically curled up against him. She shifts away from him so she can turn her head to look at him.

“Want to know a secret?” she asks. He makes a noise that she takes for agreement, and pretends not to notice the way his pupils are blown wide. It’s dark, after all. That could be a thing, right?

“I’m really bad at seeing constellations,” she confesses. “I love them though. But I can never really make them out.” There’s something so… magical, about being able to look at the sky and not see tiny balls of firey gas, but stories and myths and legends. Something to believe in. Bellamy smirks at her, and he’s her friend again, just her friend. She doesn’t breathe a sigh of relief and takes that as a win.

“You just asked if Ursa Major was Andromeda, I don’t think that’s a secret,” Bellamy tells her, laughing softly, almost mocking. “But I tell you what, our next date, we’ll go stargazing and I’ll teach you.” He says it like it’s nothing, like it’s just a thing that they’re going to go on (fake)dates until the wedding. She smiles anyway, because  for all that she doesn’t want to fall for Bellamy Blake, for all that it’s a really shitty idea, the guy has some pretty fantastic date ideas. She grins at him, pretending it’s all completely normal.

“I’d like that. You’re an excellent fake boyfriend, Bellamy Blake,” she tells him softly, and she’s not sure if she’s reminding him or herself that this isn’t real. It isn’t real. It’s not.

 

-

 

Things are normal at school, and she doesn’t think about the way it felt at the museum. At school it’s all bitching about Jaha, the other history teacher, and budgeting concerns, and about how the sports teams get all the funding despite the fact that this is meant to be an educational establishment. Bellamy wants to start some sort of mythology club that competes with other mythology clubs that Clarke’s never heard of before, but it sounds amazing. She wants funding for a robotics group and to get Raven in to help run it. Bellamy’s pretty sure that Raven will scar the kids for life, but Clarke’s pretty confident that she’d love it. Normal. But then it’s International Ice Cream for Breakfast Day (thanks Jasper), and she finds herself in Bellamy’s backyard and everything is strangely domestic and she’s definitely not avoiding him.

 

“Why are you avoiding my brother?” Octavia asks her, sipping on something horrifically sweet. It’s like 11am in the morning and it looks like she’s dissolved a bag of Skittles in vodka and lemonade. Clarke rolls her eyes.

“I’m not avoiding him. I’m hanging out with my friends in his backyard. If I was avoiding him I would still be in bed. I don’t think you understand the joy of Saturday mornings for me. I don’t put on actual clothes until at least midday,” Clarke replies.

“It’s true. I think she managed to make it through last weekend without a bra,” Monty interjects. Clarke’s not sure whether to hit him for sharing that titbit or thank him for having her back. But it’s Monty, so.

“Thanks, Mon,” she says. “But seriously, why do you think I’m avoiding your brother?” Octavia takes another sip of the syrup she’s drinking and gives Clarke a onceover.

“Miller and Raven are pretending not to be worried,” Octavia says. “I’m getting actual visits from people, not just weird text messages telling me what stupid thing he’s done this time. They’re showing up to tell me what stupid thing he’s done. And he’s pretending none of it is happening on Sibling Dinner Night. You haven’t said more than ‘hello’ to him since you arrived here. Ergo, you’re avoiding him because of your weird bet and your weird fake dating thing so he can win his break-up.”

“He might win this break up, but I’m going to win the bet,” Clarke says, because it seems like an appropriate thing to say. Octavia raises her eyebrows, unimpressed, and Clarke feels the unimpressed oozing off her.

“Are you fucking with my brother?” Octavia asks, threatening, and she feels Monty take a step back behind her.

“I’m not fucking with him. Or fucking him. I’m just… he bet me that he wouldn’t fall in love with me. And he will. Because I’m awesome,” Clarke explains. She gestures to herself. “Look at me. I’m smart, gorgeous, and funny. What’s not to fall in love with? And I love his weird mythology rants.” Octavia laughs.

“Yeah, we all know he’s fucked. I guess the question is, are you?” she asks. Clarke takes a breath. She’s not really friends with Octavia. They met when she and Bellamy were still arguing viciously at every opportunity before it settled into this weird friendly thing they did. So Octavia’s still firmly in the Bellamy camp, and kind of vaguely suspicious of her. In fact, Clarke has considered who’s going to get who in the break up. She gets to keep Monty and Jasper and they share Raven on alternating weekends. It wouldn’t be the worst. Except… she’d lose Bellamy, and the thought of that kind of sucks more than it should.

“I don’t know,” Clarke says, in the end. Because it’s the truth and she doesn’t know what else to say. “I want to say no, but he’s taking me stargazing. So I think we’re both vaguely insane.” Octavia snorts and rolls her eyes.

“You’re both the worst. I have money on both of you losing the bet, FYI,” Octavia tells her. “There are many bets. Monty has somehow turned into a bookie, and Jasper just keeps making incomprehensible noises every time the subject is brought up. He’s been shipping you guys since Lily left.” Clarke makes a face.

“Shipping real people is weird. He needs to stop,” she says. Octavia laughs, and Clarke thinks this conversation is going better than expected.

“Go talk to my idiot brother, he’s only going to freak out if you don’t,” Octavia instructs. And Clarke rolls her eyes, but goes and talks to him anyway. It’s not like she wasn’t going to… just that she hadn’t yet.

 

While she doesn’t exactly appreciate what could have been the shovel talk from Octavia, it’s not like it’s totally unwarranted. It’s not like she hadn’t thought about trying to manipulate Bellamy so she won the bet. But in the end, it just… She’s competitive, but she likes Bellamy, and it’s a friendship she doesn’t want to ruin for a hundred dollars. Probably even a thousand dollars. But she’s not going to use that as an excuse to stop giving him shit about needing a fake girlfriend in the first place. Especially in front of his friends.

“Hey fake boyfriend, fallen in love with me yet?” Clarke teases as she arrives at the barbecue that Bellamy has taken firm control of.

“Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby,” Bellamy deadpans, and she laughs, because this is the friend that she loves in a completely platonic way.

“Did you just quote 10 Thing I Hate About You?” she asks him, delighted. He laughs and pretends not to roll his eyes while staring at the onions on the grill.

“I had a sister,” he defends himself, but she can tell he kind of loves it too. And it’s a modern adaptation of ‘Taming of the Shrew’, so really, what’s not to love, really.  But it jogs something she’s been meaning to ask him since their trip to the museum:

“So did Augustus. Which is a thing I’ve been meaning to ask you about. Are you a nerd because of her name?” she asks, taking a sip of her orange juice. Bellamy stares at her for a moment, and she can see Miller trying really hard to keep himself as stoic as usual, and failing. She sees Bellamy’s adam’s apple bob.

“Uh, predates it, actually. I named her. I was six, and my mother had been reading stories about ancient Rome to me,” Bellamy says, finally, almost stumbling over his words. Clarke grins. She’s heard a lot of things about Aurora Blake since she’s been a part of this social group, but this is by far the best.

“That’s super cool. I hope if I have kids I remember to read them cool history stuff instead of damsels and misogynists, which is what I grew up on,” Clarke says, trying not to gush and probably failing, because, seriously, if your kid could grow up on the power of a Roman women instead of passive sleeping beauty bullshit, they are definitely going to be a way better person for it. Bellamy stares at her for a moment, like he can’t quite believe this is reality, before turning back to the grill. She wonders if she’s embarrassed him, or struck a nerve. She’s about to apologise, but her mumbles about the food being ready and her going to tell everyone, and so she does. It seems like the best idea.

 

She’s about to go home, and is doing the rounds saying goodbye, when Bellamy grabs her by the forearm and drags her off to the side, out of hearing of the rest of the group, who are involved in an epic battle of Cards Against Humanity that Clarke’s pretty sure Harper’s going to win.

“So, uh, stargazing?” Bellamy says. it is the most awkward she thinks he’s ever been. She screws her mouth up into a smile.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I still, I mean, if you want to. I’d like to.” She does not think about curling up next to him in the planetarium. She doesn’t. He grins.

“Yeah, I want to. Nobody else ever wants to come up Mount Weather with me,” he tells her. She smiles, and he smiles, and it feels like they’re setting up an actual date. She wants to say something obvious about it being as friends, but she can’t bring herself to. “Next Friday work for you?”

“I’ll look forward to it. Want to leave straight from school or meet up after dinner?” she asks. He makes a face.

“I’ve got an assignment coming in that day from my year nines, a performance review, and two parent teacher conferences. No way I’m finishing before seven,” Bellamy tells her. She grins.

“Straight from school then. We’ll take a picnic,” Clarke decides, and he smiles at her like she’s not just a friend from work. They probably aren’t anymore anyway. She doesn’t think she’d stop being friends if she quit and took up graphic design like she toys with on the bad days. It’s a comforting thought.

“That’d be great. Thanks Clarke,” he says, and she smiles and nods and leaves and doesn’t think about kissing him.

 

-

 

Monty and Jasper are sitting on the couch when she gets back from her stargazing (fake)date with Bellamy. They look at her like she’s chocolate and they’re five years old.

“So, how was stargazing?” Monty asks pretending, and failing, to be casual. She falls into the armchair next to the couch.

“It was… really nice,” Clarke says in the end. They look at her expectantly. “We talked about our dead parents, and looked at the stars, and then we came home.” Their eyes become saucers.

“You never talk about your dad,” Jasper says. “Is this it? Are you in love? Has it happened?” Clarke throws a cushion at his head.

“No. It was just… nice to talk to someone who gets it,” Clarke said. “And I think I might actually be able to make out some constellations now. Educational evening.” Monty scoffs.

“You really are the worst at this,” Monty tells her. She glares at him.

“Yeah, and you and Miller are so smooth,” she snaps back. Monty rolls his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous,” he tells her. “You just don’t want to fall in love.” Clarke looks at him for a moment, considering.

“Can you blame me?” she asks softly. And he smiles sadly.

“No,” Monty says. Jasper shakes his head.

“Some people are so stupid. You’re the best, Clarke,” Jasper tells her, and she smiles at him.

“Thanks guys.”

 

She falls asleep hearing Bellamy tell her that his mother would have loved her.

 

-

 

Clarke moves house two weekends before the wedding. Miller’s moving in with Monty, and she’s bought a two bedroom house in the suburbs. Her mother is furious because she’s finally taking Clarke seriously when she says she’s not moving back home. This has been home since she moved in with Monty, and Jasper and Raven had arrived with alcohol and they’d spent a night drinking and talking shit. She doesn’t want to be part of a world where things aren’t honest, and here… things are. She says she’s going to hire a moving company because she straight up can’t be bothered, but the menfolk all make disappointed noises at her, and Miller has a truck license for some unknown reason, and it’s all over in three hours anyway. And all it cost her was a couple of pizzas and a carton of beers. Moving day is reaching a close, but Raven hangs back, sitting beside her on the outdoor lounge she’d bought.

“Look, you know you’re like, my best female friend or whatever,” Raven begins like she’s firing a semiautomatic weapon.

“No, please, continue, I’m flattered and strangely offended,” Clarke interjects, because she can. Raven hits her.

“Shut up. And Bellamy is like, my best guy friend,” Raven continues. “And this stupid bet will be over next weekend. But… I’ve known Bellamy since I was thirteen years old. And he’s an idiot when it comes to shit like this. But… I’m pretty sure, and I’m not the only one, that you’re winning this bet. But no one seems to have read on whether or not he is too.” Clarke thinks about this for a moment.

“I think we’re okay,” Clarke replies, thinking about how normal everything is now they’ve stopped going on fake dates. She can be a supportive sidekick at the wedding and bitch about Lily all day, and make him laugh, and everything will go back to normal, and she’ll stop feeling like she does when he smiles at her. Raven scoffs. For the first time, Clarke wonders if she would actually get to keep Raven on alternating weekends.

“You’re an idiot too. Since you know who. You make stupid choices like you don’t want shit to matter,” Raven tells her. It’s strangely insightful for a woman who keeps pretending she isn’t dating Wick. Finn had done a number on her as well.

“I want it to matter, I just don’t want it to be… With… it felt almost inevitable, you know? He was sweet and soulful and liked me and it just kind of… happened,” Clarke says, and it’s the closest they’ve come to discussing this ever. And probably the closest they will come ever. It’s not something either of them want to talk about. “But Lexa was a choice, you know? Like, we could choose to make this work. And we couldn’t.”

“So what’s Bellamy?” Raven asks.

“He’s a friend,” Clarke replies, but it’s too quick, and she knows it. Raven snorts and gives her a dirty look. “He’s… he’s different now, than I thought he was,” she admits. “But it’s just… we’ll just be better friends after this.” Raven shakes her head.

“You need to think about how you’re going to react when he tells you he’s in love with you. Because that boy has got it bad. Not that I blame him. If I swung that way I’d be half in love with you too,” Raven replies. Clarke kicks her leg and laughs. It might be the truth, but Raven’s an idiot too, since Finn.

“I’ll be sure to let Wick know he’s got competition,” Clarke says, hoping it changes the subject. Raven looks at her, mildly panicked.

“He wants to move in with me,” she confides, and Clarke tries not to laugh.

“Well, Rae, you have been dating him for over a year,” she says, trying to sound like she understands. Raven groans.

“I’m such a mess. Why does he even like me? We’re not even really dating? We’re just kind of…,” Raven trails off. Clarke sighs.

“How about you get to talk to me about my love life when you sort your own shit?” Clarke asks. Raven scowls.

“That hardly seems fair. You and Blake are going to married with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence and I’m still going to be awkwardly attempting to date the stupid engineer,” Raven says. Clarke laughs.

“Well, step one might be not calling him ‘the stupid engineer’,” Clarke suggests. Raven throws a leaf at her and changes the subject.

 

-

 

Clarke wants to blame the wine, but she kind of forgets that this is a fake date once they hit the reception and she and Monty steal the champagne. She gets to smile and lean on Bellamy, and say how great he is and how she doesn’t understand how Lily was ever good enough for him. Bellamy looks slightly dazed when she says he’s great, and repeats her words. She shoves him, and she wishes it was enough to bring her all the way back to reality, but it’s not.

 

She really does blame the champagne. It’s the only logical reason why she suggested dancing with him. She feels like she’s at exactly the right height to kiss him in her heels, pressed against him slow dancing. She forces herself to remember it’s all an act, forces him to as well.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into this. I hate weddings,” Clarke murmurs. “They’re too formal and stuff. I want to elope.” Okay, she definitely did not meant to talk about her hypothetical wedding. That’s not the kind of thing platonic friends pretending to be on a date talk about it. Jesus, that sentence is exactly the reason this was such a stupid fucking idea and she really hopes neither of them win the bet and everything can go back to exactly the way it was before this happened. She’s willing to sacrifice the shoes.

“That sounds good,” Bellamy replies. “I used to think I’d have a surprise wedding. Like, hey everyone come over for a barbecue, guess what, we’re getting married in a half hour.” She pulls back a little, surprise, and pleased.

“I like your way too,” she admits. Laidback with all the people who really care about them. Her. Care about her. There is no groom, she reminds herself. “But I’m surprised you ever thought about your wedding. I thought guys didn’t normally do that stuff.” Bellamy shrugs, and looks awkward and embarrassed, like he let something slip he didn’t mean to. But then: he’s been looking after Octavia since he was a teenager. He’s always had slightly different priorities.

“I don’t know. I want to one day. Get married, have a family. I thought it would be with Lily, but I’m glad it’s not now,” he confesses. She considers him for a moment, because of course he does. He’d be a great dad. But…

“Why don’t you have a real girlfriend?” she asks, because it’s a legitimate question. He’s a catch, objectively speaking. Bellamy shrugs.

“I just don’t, I guess. I spent a year moping over Lily, and then I just got busy with work and our friends. I was happy. Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” he says, not quite able to look at her. She hums and presses back into him. She wonders if this is the moment he asks her out, that this stops being fake and becomes something else. But she figures they’re both too prideful for that to happen at the actual wedding.

“Same reasons as you, I guess. Moping, work, friends,” she says. “I miss having someone sometimes, but I like my life the way it is too.” Bellamy hums into her hair. She blames the alcohol for the way she leans against him. They don’t talk for the rest of the song, swaying in each other’s arms. It feels… safe. But not in the way that it felt to be with Finn when it was good. In the way it used to feel with her father - that safe to be herself, and he’d keep her safe. It’s definitely the alcohol. The song changes, and she pretends not to notice. She’s not in love with him. She’s not. She just likes the way she’s not scared when she’s in his arms, and feels like the truth won’t come back to bite her in the ass.

 

Monty looks like the cat that got the cream when she gets back to the table.

“What?” she asks, self conscious. Monty beams and hands her his phone.

“Look at it,” he instructs. “Hit play.” She does. It’s her and Bellamy, swaying together, murmuring to each other. Her eyes flick to the background, and Lily looks livid. Like the bitch only invited Bellamy to remind him to be miserable about losing her, and he’s not. At least, he doesn’t look like it. They look like they’re in love. Clarke smiles at Monty, but she knows it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Mission success,” she says. “Lily’s super jealous and pissed. Bellamy won the break up.” Monty gives her a look of utter disbelief.

“That’s what you got from that? Not the fact that you and Bellamy are clearly meant for each other?” he asks. Clarke rolls her eyes. But she saw it. She did. And she can’t unsee it. It’s just for tonight, she reminds herself.

“Give the rest of the champagne,” Clarke says. It’s almost the last thing she remembers properly.

 

-

 

Clarke’s relatively hungover on Sunday morning. But she’s glad to see painkillers and water by her bed. Also a bucket. But mainly she has a headache. Fucking champagne. At least she’s not about to throw up. She gets up and decides that she deserves eggs, so she chucks a couple in the frying pan. When the knock at her door happens, she kind of thinks about murdering the people on the other side. But it’s almost 10am, and realistically she should be awake right now. And it’s girls scouts selling cookies. She reaches into the clutch she had last night for her wallet, and sees a white envelope she doesn’t recognise. She opens it up to find two fifty dollar bills. A hundred dollars. She feels sick, and it’s not the hangover. She vacantly navigates the rest of the transaction to end up with a box of Thin Mints and goes back to staring at the envelope.

He loves her? Or is it just… thank you money of some sort for being his fake girlfriend?

He just slipped the money in her purse like she’s a fucking hooker?

The anger courses through her, overriding the common sense and the gravity of what exactly that envelope means, and she finds herself scarfing down breakfast in record time so she can storm over to Bellamy’s house and give him what for.

 

He answers his door in bare feet and sweat pants and she ignores it so she can glare more effectively. She waves the envelope in his face.

“What the hell is this?” she demands. Which is not the calm and reasonable question she had rehearsed on the way over. But, whatever. He smiles like she’s adorable and leans against the door frame.

“The winnings from our bet,” he says calmly. She stares at him blankly, so he elaborates: “You were right. Rom coms, feelings, all that jazz.” She thinks, briefly, about punching him. But honestly, she feels kind of sucker punched herself right now. Raven was right, she thinks absently, she should have actually thought about what if this happened instead of dancing through de-nile like Cleo-freakin’-patra.

“You’re in love with me?” she asks, because that really is kind of the question here, isn’t it. “And you tell me by slipping me a hundred bucks like some kind of hooker?” She waves the envelope in his face again for good measure. If he’d told her like a normal person… don’t even think about it, she chastises herself. Focus. Asshole Blake. Hooker money. He laughs a little, and she gets that she must seem a little ridiculous. But, still.

“I think I might be in love with you. Temporarily at least. I tried to tell you last night, but you were too drunk, so I just gave you the money. I’m not going to make it weird or anything, and I don’t expect anything from you. But you won, so go buy your shoes, or whatever,” Bellamy tells her, gently. And the worst part is, that part of the night drifts back to her. She remembers falling asleep and feeling loved and wanting to tell him she felt the same. But she didn’t. And she doesn’t feel like a winner.

“Oh,” she says, for want of something better to say. “Right.” He’s still smiling at her like she’s not an insane person, which is probably a good sign. It’s also the least asshole-ish way she’s ever been told that someone is into her. The silence drags out slightly longer than is necessary.

“Well, if that’s everything, I’m in the middle of laundry,” Bellamy tells her. It’s so domestic and normal, and Clarke’s not entirely sure this is real life anymore. She might be having a weird psychotic break.

“Right. Okay. See you tomorrow, then,” she manages, and he shuts the door. She stares at it for a moment, and then back at her car on the sidewalk.

What the fuck was she meant to do now?

 

-

 

“Tell him you love him too, you moron,” Raven berated her. She and Monty were sitting in her living room eating pizza and drinking nonalcoholic beverages (Clarke still kind of had a hangover and science-y workplaces don’t take kindly to hung over employees). Clarke looked at Monty. He shrugged.

“Well you kind of do, don’t you?” he asked. Clarke stared at them for a minute.

“Fuck,” she said eventually. “This was not the plan.” Monty nods.

“I know, the plan was for new shoes. So buy the shoes,” Monty begins.

“And also get an orgasm,” Raven interjects. “Best of both worlds.” Clarke glares at her, and Raven shrugs. Clarke sighs.

“I’m not going to lie, an orgasm from not something run on batteries would be awesome,” Clarke begins. Monty winces and Raven gives her a disappointed look. “But I don’t think that’s exactly a reason to mess with Bellamy’s head if I’m not serious about this. He’s… he said temporarily. Like, that’s a thing, right? If I just pretend it’s not happening it’ll go away, right?” Monty and Raven exchange a look.

“Bellamy’s… he’s not exactly emotionally fickle,” Monty tries. “He kind of… has his people and then that’s it, they’re his.” Raven nods, picking the olives off her slice of caprioska pizza.

“Exactly. Whether or not he wants to admit it, temporary probably means like a year,” Raven adds. “Besides, of course he loves you. You’re basically perfect for him.” Clarke stares at them.

“Well, what am I meant to do?” she asks. “It’s not fair to just, like, hook up with him because it’s on offer.” Raven and Monty exchange another look. Clarke momentarily wishes she’d never introduced them.

“Clarke, sweetheart,” Monty says gently. “You’re in love with him too.” Clarke stares at him, frozen.

“I’m…,” she says, but she can’t finish the sentence.

“You love him,” Raven says, gently for Raven. Clarke thinks about it. She thinks about the museum, about the way he talked about weaponry, the way he smiled when she raved on about art. She thinks about curling into him in the planetarium. About stargazing. She thinks about the way she felt like she belonged next to him at the wedding. About how right it had felt to dance in his arms and talk wedding plans.

“Oh. Fuck,” Clarke says after a moment. “You might be right.” Raven refills her glass and Monty pats her shoulder.

  
  


-

 

Clarke’s pretty sure there’s a more suave way to do tell Bellamy she feels the same. But she’s got no chill about this at all. Because it’s not like Finn or Lexa or anyone else she’s dated. It’s Bellamy, who kind of feels like someone that’s on her team even when they’re arguing. She can’t really picture her life without him in it in some way, shape, or form. She’s kind of terrified that this is going to fuck everything up, despite last night’s pep talks, and the envelope-shaped evidence to the contrary.

 

Regardless, she’s really grateful that he’s in the staffroom when she arrives, because she’s not entirely sure how she was going to handle the sick feeling in her stomach all day if he wasn’t. He’s reading the newspaper and he sounds completely normal when he greets her.

“Morning, Miss Griffin,” he says, and then goes back to looking at the paper. She’s trying not to think that it’s weird that he’s not making it weird which is making it weird. Inception levels of weird.

“Hey,” she says, awkwardly. ‘C’mon Griffin, pull it together,’ she chastises herself. His shoulders shift and she wonders if she’s making it weird and it’s her fault and he’s ready to ignore everything.

“How was your Sunday?” Bellamy asks without looking up from the newspaper. She reminds herself that she is smart, sexy, and fun, and tries to tell herself that the question is normal and not about ignoring their conversation on Sunday morning.

“Uh, interesting,” she replies, because it was. I mean, hooker money, discovering she’s actually got feelings for the guy, it’s been a thing. She finishes making her coffee, takes a breath, and then in a completely normal way she drops the envelope on his newspaper. He stares at it, and then he looks up and stares at her. Clarke tries to act normal, but she’s pretty sure does not look normal at all.

“What’s this?” he asks, and his voice doesn’t sound normal. She rolls her eyes. If he can confess his love with an envelope, surely she can to.

“Open it and find out, idiot,” she says dryly, and this feels better, more normal. He looks back down at the envelope and she tries to drink her coffee like a normal person. She thinks her lip might actually start bleeding in a minute from the way she’s chewing it.

“What?” he asks, confused. She kind of wants to make a disgusted noise, throw her hands in the air, and walk out. And call Raven, and explain that while she may have feelings for him, he’s a complete idiot who doesn’t deserve her. But she pulls it together and reminds herself that nerves usually make her do the stupidest shit. Stick with the plan.

“The bet,” she says meaningfully. She sits down beside him as her parrots her words back.

“The bet,” he says slowly. “The bet that you won. But you winning doesn’t mean I can’t too.” He puts it together slowly, and his eyes widen, staring at her, like he’s not entirely sure this is actually a thing that’s happening. She attempts a smile, and shrugs.

“Yeah, so, you were right. Rom com, feelings, you’re attractive, smart, funny, and genuinely care about me. And I’m really interested about the part where you are great in bed,” Clarke says, aiming for light and casual and coming off as higher pitched than normal and kind of shaky.

“You love me,” he says, wonder in his tone. Clarke huffs and hits his arm. Bellamy grins at her like it’s Christmas and he’s getting a puppy.

“Obviously. And you love me, right?” Clarke asks, voice still not hitting normal.

“Definitely,” he replies. “Want to go on a real date with me tonight?” Clarke grins and is very pleased with herself for not laughing like an idiot because her heart’s doing a weird thing and she kind of thinks that this is going to be awesome.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she replies, and her voice is normal this time, and Bellamy’s still grinning. He’s about to say something else, but Jaha walks in to get his morning coffee, and they make it a rule to avoid all interactions they can with him, so the conversation is over and they head their separate ways. But just before they do, Bellamy catches her wrist, and she looks down at his hand and then up at him.

“You’re serious, right? About going out with me, I mean,” he asks. And she loves that he’s nervous, so she grins.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to work pretty hard to top our fake dates though. They were something else,” Clarke tells him, and he fucking blushes and she wants to kiss him but she can’t. Because they’re at work and their students think they are role models and functional human adults.

“They were pretty great,” Bellamy agrees. “But I was kind of thinking I’d cook dinner for you at my place and we’d watch the Constellations and Ancient Civilizations documentary.” Clarke grins.

“Cool, see you tonight,” she tells him, and he grins at her like she’s… she doesn’t even know. Like she’s not just the blonde science teacher he works with. And god, he even had a date idea ready to go. He’s such a fucking nerd. And god help her, she loves it.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [You can find me on tumblr here.](http://wordy-anansi.tumblr.com/)
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> And I hope you enjoyed it! I find writing Clarke exceptionally challenging, but I liked how she was in this weird space of denial and not sure what was happening. So I have no idea if I wrote this well or not, but I wanted to give it a go. Let me know what you think!


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